


attached

by pleurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Peter Parker, Hair-pulling Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Suit Kink, mentions of Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, peter is 20, the super suit kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: Tony gets it, he really does. As far as rebounds go, sleeping with your childhood hero isn't half bad. And if what Peter wants isthis— just sex, with no strings attached— then Tony will give him this.





	attached

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> Dear recip, this is for the prompt ‘Tony pining because he thinks he’s a fling,' although some of your other likes have also made their way in there. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Set in a post-IW/Endgame AU where Tony is alive, and he and Pepper never got back together after CW.
> 
> Posted anonymously for a fic exchange on 8/21, but redated for author reveals on 8/28.

Tony Stark is familiar with the concept of hitting rock bottom. Fighting against all odds to bring your platonic mentee back to life, only to realize, after holding him in your arms, that those feelings are not platonic after all? That's a new low, even for him.

Because he is the master of healthy coping mechanisms, he first tries to fix things with the one thing he has more of than guilt, which is money. He pays for Peter's high school graduation trip, buys Peter an apartment near Columbia, makes him twenty more Spider-Man suits than strictly necessary. But all of that only makes the unbridled admiration in Peter’s eyes get brighter.

So Tony tries a different approach. He gets plastered, and the slew of one-night stands gets plastered all over the tabloid headlines. Once, he even shows up to the lab sessions visibly hungover— not his best moment. It works, though not in the way he intended. Peter starts finding excuses to skip their weekly lab sessions, until gradually he stops showing up altogether. Tony gets the message loud and clear. He was being a bad mentor and a terrible example and it was good, really, that Peter stopped hanging around so much, because there was no way Tony could ruin their relationship if there was no relationship at all. 

And so time went on. Peter had college to attend, and college students to mess around with, and if Tony had only his robots and bottles to keep him company then it was nobody's fault but his own. 

It’s in Peter’s junior year of college that Tony stumbles upon Peter’s Craigslist ad and finds out he’s put up the apartment for rent. It was a gift— Peter didn’t owe him anything. So Tony mostly just feels betrayed by the fact that Peter has listed it for dirt cheap, just enough to cover utilities. If he was going to give up Tony’s gift, he could at least turn it into a business opportunity. And maybe it would have been nice to get a call first. It’s been about half a year since their last hangout in the lab— half a year since he last saw Peter in person. 

In hindsight, showing up unannounced at Peter’s apartment was probably not the best way he could have handled this, but he forgets to question himself when the door swings open. There stands Peter Parker, heartbreakingly handsome even in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, hair tousled like he’s just woken up from a nap or returned from a leisurely swing around the neighbourhood. 

“Mr. Stark? I— wha—” Tony didn’t know how much he missed that familiar ramble until he hears it. “I thought you were— someone said they’d come by to check out the apartment later but— what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to check out your apartment,” says Tony. He lets himself in, and browses around. The place has a very Peter vibe to it. The Spider-Man suit is slung haphazardly over the back of the couch— embarrassed, Peter bundles it up and shoves it under the couch. There’s a couple framed photos next to the TV— Peter with Ned and MJ, Peter and May, and Tony’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the photo of him and Peter from years ago, holding his Stark Industries certificate.

“It’s smaller than I remembered,” says Tony. “But still worth a lot more than your asking price.” He brushes past Peter to browse the kitchen. Dirty dishes in the sink, some empty cup noodle containers, but generally good as new.

Peter follows him, bouncing on his toes, a bundle of nerves. “How’d you know I was renting it out?”

“I monitor your name on the internet sometimes. If someone tries to blow your cover with the whole Spider-Man thing, I can nip it in the bud.” Yep. That’s the whole reason. No selfish intentions at all. 

“Oh,” says Peter, visibly relaxing. “Thanks.” He flashes a grateful smile that Tony doesn’t deserve.

The expression quickly turns into one of mortified embarrassment when Tony strolls into the bathroom and spots the giant red dildo suctioned to the shower wall.

“Oh my God,” says Peter, face beet red. He leaps in front of Tony and yanks the shower curtain shut. “Just— pretend you didn’t see that. Please.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “Oh, Mr. Parker, you’ve changed. What happened to the doe-eyed goody-two-shoes who hung around in my lab?”

“What— I was having sex way before our last lab session,” says Peter indignantly. He crosses his arms. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“That’s fair.” Tony does not want to think about that. Tony is not _going_ to think about that. Peter’s right. It’s none of his business. 

He leaves the bathroom and heads back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “So, kid, where are you moving to? You can’t get that much closer to Columbia than this.”

“Oh,” says Peter. “Actually, I’m taking a gap semester off school and moving to the Bay area. My plane leaves the first Monday of September. I’ll be staying with MJ.”

It’s a little out of character. Peter loves this city— enough to turn down MIT— and he’s never had a problem juggling Columbia’s bioengineering program with his patrols. Tony takes off his tinted glasses and fixes Peter with a look. “Did something happen?”

Peter laughs under his breath. “I, um, had a breakup. Or something like that.”

Tony winces sympathetically. “Bad enough that you have to get out of the city, huh?” Tony dealt with his last breakup by plucking a fourteen year old kid out of Queens and throwing him into a fight meant for adults, and then _that_ had ended with a shield jammed into his metaphorical heart as he lay flat on his back in Siberia, so. Peter is handling it relatively well. 

“Yeah,” says Peter. “He, um, turned into a supervillain and tried to kill me. So I guess you could say it was pretty bad.”

“Harry Osborn?” Tony narrows his eyes. “I didn’t know you two were dating.” He’d been skeptical of Peter’s decision to intern for Oscorp after having worked for Stark Industries. It was like taking a bite out of a gourmet steak and then deciding you’d rather have McDonald’s. But now he has a whole other reason to be mad about it.

“Only for a few months,” says Peter. “I’m fine. Really.”

He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal, but Tony can see the hurt in his eyes. The kid has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and it was something Tony could never protect him from, no matter how many durable suits he designed.

“Pete, listen to me,” says Tony, placing a hand on his arm. “You deserve someone who’s going to give you the world. Don’t you ever settle for anything less. You got it?” 

Peter looks at him, wide-eyed, for a long moment before he shies away from Tony’s touch. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he says weakly. “I think I’m done with dating for now, but thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“So? What’s the plan? You got a job lined up there? MJ’s apartment better be nice, if you’re giving this one up.” 

“Oh, I don’t really have a plan,” says Peter. “But I’ve got enough money saved up from my internship, if I ration out my food and stuff. And MJ lives in a shared house, actually. With like, five other college students. It’ll be great— I’ll get to meet new people.”

“So, here’s what I’m getting from this,” says Tony. “You, Spider-Man, are going to spend four, five months with no food for your superpowered metabolism, and no privacy to change in and out of your suit?”

Peter scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I told you I didn’t really have a plan.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Tell you what,” he says. “You’ve got, what, a month before your flight? In that time, you could come work for me. Whatever you made at Oscorp, double that. Triple that. You can save up, enjoy your time off without starving yourself. I’ve even got an apartment there that I’m not using. Better than this one, and no roommates.”

“You _really_ don’t have to,” says Peter. “Seriously, Mr. Stark.” 

“I’m serious, Peter,” says Tony. “If you don’t want the apartment, at least think about the job offer. Pepper’s on vacation, so everything’s a mess. Plus, you’ve interned for me _and_ my competitor. From a business standpoint, it’d be a waste to let you walk away. And from a personal one?” Tony pulls up the video footage of Peter’s fight against the Green Goblin. “Don’t pretend that fight didn’t damage your suit as much as it broke your heart. You’re long since due for an upgrade. We can work on it together.”

Peter looks conflicted, and for a moment Tony’s worried he’s offering too much, but this makes a lot more sense than a giant bunny, so he thinks he’s in the clear. Then Peter nods his head with conviction. “Okay,” says Peter, familiar smile inching across his face. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Then we have a deal,” says Tony, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “Welcome back to Stark Industries, Mr. Parker. Care to celebrate with a drink?” 

Peter waves a perfunctory hand. “Oh, I can’t. I’m not twenty-one yet.”

Tony pulls open the cupboard under the sink to reveal at least ten bottles of assorted liquor. It reminds him of popping open a trapdoor in Peter’s ceiling, years ago, and watching a red-and-blue onesie drop down. He flashes Peter a good-natured grin. “Don’t look so alarmed, Pete. I’m not going to call the fun police.” 

Peter laughs. “Okay, then,” he says, fishing out a bottle of whiskey. He gets them each a glass, drops in some ice cubes, and fills them to the top. 

“To the internship,” says Tony, raising his glass.

“To the internship,” says Peter, grinning widely as he clinks their glasses together.

It’s the best idea Tony has had yet.

-

It’s the worst idea Tony has had yet. 

An hour later they’re both very inebriated, lounging on Peter’s couch. Peter’s laughing so hard he falls over onto Tony. Tony can’t remember what was so funny. All he can think about is how if he moves his hips just two inches to the left, he would brush up against— 

Okay. No. That’s it. “I’m cutting myself off,” Tony announces. “And you. I’m cutting you off, too.”

“What?” Peter scowls. “I thought you said you wouldn’t call the fun police.”

“Jig’s up. I am the fun police.” 

Peter groans. “C’mon, Mr. Stark,” he whines. “Just one more.”

“Nope, you’re done.” Tony picks up the half-finished bottle of wine from the table and Peter reaches for it, but Tony jerks his hand away. Peter leans in closer to swat his hand at it, which puts his face inches away from Tony’s own. 

The mood shifts instantaneously. Tony can feel Peter’s breath on his skin, and his eyes dart down to Peter’s lips, just slightly parted, a delectable shade of pink. When he remembers to look back up again, the look in Peter’s eyes makes Tony feel like the room is spinning. 

Then Peter leans in and presses their lips together, and Tony forgets where he is altogether. Peter pulls away as fast as he’d come, licking his lips and grinning with satisfaction, having snatched away the bottle of wine that Tony forgot he was holding just a minute ago. 

“Got you,” says Peter, but all Tony can think about is how every fiber of his being burns with the need to kiss Peter again. 

So he does.

This time, Peter doesn’t pull away— his lips part in a surprised gasp as Tony’s tongue pushes into his mouth, his body pressing Peter’s backwards into the couch. The bottle of wine falls out of Peter’s grasp and Tony hears the sound of it toppling over, spilling onto the carpet, but can’t find it in himself to care. Not when everything he’s ever wanted is right here underneath him, body heat burning hot through the layers of fabric between them. He kisses Peter hard, pouring in years and years of longing, and Peter kisses back fervently. Tony runs his hands over Peter’s body in a dreamlike haze, suspending the disbelief that he’s even allowed to do this at all. Then Peter lets out a choked noise, thick with arousal, that goes straight to Tony’s crotch, and Tony feels something hard pressing at his hip that’s probably not a phone in Peter’s pocket. Peter’s hips jolt up with a choked whimper, confirming Tony’s suspicions. Oh, this is real. This is happening.

“Peter,” says Tony, gathering the last of his wits in a futile effort to do the right thing. “Tell me if you want me to stop, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

In response, Peter rolls his hips deliberately upwards, meeting Tony’s gaze, eyes clouded with lust. “Don’t stop,” he says.

Tony doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop when their clothes fly off in a hurry to touch as much of each other as they can. He doesn’t stop when Peter pours the lube sloppily all over Tony’s hand, and then guides Tony’s hand to his hole, a plea in his eyes. He stops after Peter comes from just his fingers, until Peter grips Tony’s wrist tightly, already hard again, and begs, “Don’t stop— don’t stop, _please—”_ and oh, _there’s_ a superpower Tony would die for. And he doesn’t stop when he finally pushes into Peter, desire burning so intense it nearly knocks the breath out of him.

Afterwards, Peter rolls onto his back, chest heaving, and stares up at the ceiling with a silly grin stretched across his face. His hair is matted to his forehead, cheeks blotchy red with the exertion, lips bitten red. Tony’s heart kicks in his chest. 

“This is the greatest sex of my life,” says Peter breathlessly.

Tony chuckles. “As it should be.” It shouldn’t be the greatest sex of Tony’s life— he’s got too much experience under his belt to feel this way about fucking someone who’s not even old enough to drink. But it is, because it’s Peter. 

Tony takes advantage of this moment of bliss to hook Peter’s arm with his own. Peter doesn’t pull away, and leans in closer, tangling their legs together. Tony’s heartbeat picks up.

“So,” says Tony slowly, wondering how best to approach the subject. “When you said you were done with dating—”

“Oh,” says Peter, turning red and avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, no, I didn’t mean _this_.” He waves a hand vaguely, with practiced nonchalance. “This is fine. With you? It’s more than fine.”

Of course it's fine. As far as rebounds go, sleeping with your childhood hero isn’t half bad. And if what Peter wants is _this—_ just sex, with no strings attached— then Tony will give him this.

“I can still intern for you, right?” says Peter anxiously. “Because I’m actually really excited for that. But if not, I totally get it.”

“Pete, this and that are completely separate things,” Tony assures him. “You have my word on that. I’m happy to have you, as long as you’re happy to be there.”

“I’m happy to,” says Peter.

The feeling in Tony’s gut is not quite happiness, but he’s had a lot of practice lying to himself. He’ll get there.

-

It turns out working with Peter isn’t awkward at all. On Peter’s first day, Tony pulls up a holographic screen of his newest project, and Peter pulls up a chair and sits next to him, scrolling through Tony’s calculations and blueprints, and it’s like picking back up right where they left off. Peter’s gotten even more brilliant over the years, bouncing ideas off of Tony with a newfound confidence that Tony tries and fails not to find incredibly sexy.

(The realization that he doesn’t have to suppress those thoughts anymore brings with it an adrenaline rush so strong, Tony feels like a teenager again.)

Despite this, they actually do get a lot of work done. At the end of the day, though, Peter surprises him by climbing into his lap and saying, “I’ve never had sex in an office. Have you?”

“Shockingly, no,” says Tony. “At least, not my own. I try to keep my work separate from my personal pleasure. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Peter echoes. He runs his hand along the silk of Tony’s tie, twirls it around his wrist, and tugs Tony forward, a bold look in his eye that sends a shiver down Tony’s spine. “Think you can make an exception?”

 _You’ve always been the exception,_ Tony thinks, but the words catch in his throat before they can force their way out. What he says instead is, “Oh, I think I can.”

Tony makes a grand gesture of sweeping everything off his desk, earning a satisfied laugh from Peter. Four orgasms later, three of which belong to Peter, they’re sort of cuddled but mostly squashed together in Tony’s office chair. Peter catches his breath, head buried in the crook of Tony’s neck. 

“What are you doing for dinner?” Peter asks. 

“Oh, I’ve got a thing,” says Tony. He checks his watch. “And I’m half an hour late for it.”

“Oh,” says Peter, hurriedly jumping off of Tony. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had plans.” He scrambles to get his clothes back on and does a terrible job of straightening himself out. Whatever. If there was anyone left in the building, then Tony would be thrilled to have them know what he and Peter had done.

“It’s just a potential investor, no big deal. Besides, I’m always fashionably late,” says Tony. “Get home safe, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, breathless. He smiles, and then bites down on his lip, like he’s trying to remember not to be too excited. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter heads out the door, jacket zipped all the way up to cover his come-stained shirt, and Tony lets himself sit there for a long moment, leaning his head fall back against his chair, before he gets up and puts himself together again.

-

They don’t get to spend as much time as they would like to, doing the things that they would like to. Work gets busy, so they squeeze in a quickie or two. But a lot of whatever downtime they have is spent working on Peter’s suit upgrades, because getting him suited up could be just as fun as getting those clothes off.

Outside of work, Peter has friends to hang out with and online summer courses to study for, because unfortunately, he’s just like Tony in the sense that he thoroughly enjoys overworking himself. Tony wonders how he’ll handle a whole semester of having nothing to do in San Francisco. He thinks about convincing Peter to stay, but it’ll just be harder to end things if he does. 

When their schedules finally line up for a brief pocket of time, Tony heads over to Peter’s place— it’s smaller, but Tony doesn’t want to make him travel far when he’s busy. Tony knocks on the door a couple times. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter calls out. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Tony.” 

“I’m in the shower,” Peter answers. So that’s why his voice is all echoey. “The key’s under the doormat— you can let yourself in.”

Tony lets himself in and takes a seat on the couch. The wine stain on the carpet is still there. For some reason, Tony doesn’t want to look at it. He gets up and goes to knock on the bathroom door. The shower is still running. 

“Sorry, just a sec,” says Peter. “I’m almost done.” 

“This place needs a new carpet,” says Tony. “I can get you one by tonight.”

“What? No, you don’t have to do that. The carpet’s fine.” 

“There’s a big wine stain on it.”

“I really don’t care,” says Peter.

The next guy to live here probably would. The next guy. That’s another thing Tony doesn’t want to think about. He runs through his mental list of coping mechanisms— spending money’s out of the picture, so he jumps to the next thing on the list.

“Hey, mind if I hop in?” 

“Oh,” says Peter, tone of voice shifting quickly. “Oh no, of course not. The door’s not locked.”

Tony lets himself into the bathroom and strips off his clothes, then pulls back the curtain and steps into the shower.

“Hey.” Peter presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

Tony’s heart stutters in his chest. If he were a better man, he’d probably tell Peter not to be so affectionate to just anybody that he was sleeping with. They might get the wrong idea. “It’s good to see you, too,” he says, running his hands down Peter’s body and revelling in the shudder that he gets. Over Peter’s shoulder, he notices the red dildo is still attached to the wall. He wants to say it’s Iron Man red, but that’s just wishful thinking.

“So,” says Tony. “This is still there.”

“Oh,” says Peter, flushing. “I forgot to take it off. But if you want to use it, I’ve got some ideas.”

“You know I like your ideas. Hit me.”

Turns out that Peter’s idea is to get on his hands and knees and fuck himself on the dildo while sucking Tony off. Tony would worry about him slipping, but he’s got a nice superpowered grip on the otherwise slippery tile. It’s a little rough on Tony’s knees, but Peter’s pretty mouth wrapped around his cock is the greatest thing he’s ever experienced, so it balances out. His hand tightens involuntarily in Peter’s hair, and Peter moans, loud and so incredibly turned on that Tony is momentarily caught off guard. He’s got a hypothesis, and he tests it by tugging at Peter’s hair again, slower and more deliberate. Peter comes instantaneously with a muffled cry, tightening around the dildo, body jerking with such force that Tony has to reach out to hold him steady. 

He pulls off of Tony’s cock to breathe, and Tony takes that chance to ask, “So, the hair is a thing, huh?”

Peter looks away, unnecessarily shy. “Kind of. Yeah.”

“We can work with that.”

They work with it for a couple more rounds. But the best part is after all of that, when Peter slumps against him like he hasn’t got a single bone left in his body, and Tony washes his hair, slow and careful so as not to overstimulate him, and just feels the rhythm of Peter’s heart drumming against his skin. 

-

A short while later, Tony catches a cold and calls in sick to work— he doesn’t usually, but he’s aching down to his bones, and the last time he went to a lab session with Peter when he wasn’t fully healthy had not gone well at all. He doesn’t want Peter to see a sub-optimal side of him, even though Peter already has, and has stayed anyway, for whatever reason. Regardless, he calls in sick, and within the hour there’s a red masked figure tapping on his bedroom window.

“FRIDAY, unlock the windows,” says Tony, because he knows Peter won’t leave until he lets him in, and he doesn’t want Spider-Man hovering indefinitely at his window.

Peter swings in and takes off his mask and suit. “Hey, Mr. Stark. I heard you were sick. Are you okay?”

“I’ve survived worse,” says Tony, but his voice must sound pretty bad, because Peter rushes over to Tony’s bed. Pushing his hair back, he presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“I think you have a fever,” says Peter. “You’re really hot.” 

Tony is _way_ too old to be this flustered by a forehead kiss. “I’m flattered,” says Tony. “But you know I have FRIDAY for that, right? FRIDAY, check my temperature.”

“One hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit,” says FRIDAY.

“Sorry. I was just— May used to do that all the time for me when I was sick, so I— um. Yeah.” 

“No need to be sorry,” says Tony. He can’t put the blame on Peter for the way his heart knocks painfully in his chest at such a small gesture of intimacy. Speaking of intimacy. “So, you heard FRI— I’ve got a fever. I don’t want to get you sick, so go on, skedaddle. If you’ve got no work to do, go bug Pepper, and she’ll be more than happy to give you some. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, I’m staying,” says Peter, chipper. “I don’t get sick. If I do, I get better in like, half a day.” 

Peter, it appears, is really intent on getting laid tonight. Under normal circumstances, Tony would be more than happy to oblige, but right now he’s far too exhausted. “Well, I, for one, have neither your healing factor nor your youthful exuberance, so I’ll take a raincheck on that,” he says. “But if you really want, I’ve got a custom-built sex machine in the closet. It’s one of my better inventions. You should try it out.”

Peter frowns. “I’m not here just to— wait, what? You built a machine for sex?”

“Been a while,” says Tony. “A guy gets bored and lonely.”

“You’re crazy,” says Peter, in a tone of admiration and something that Tony might dare to call affection if he didn’t know better. “Well, you’re not lonely anymore, so.” He smiles, soft and sweet. “And boredom is easy. We can kill it together.”

That’s how, despite Tony’s protests, Peter ends up snuggling next to Tony on the bed as they watch Netflix. Later he even sends Tony’s chef away, and personally makes Uncle Ben’s old recipe for chicken soup that he swears up and down can cure colds like magic. Whether it’s out of pity or a general sense of duty, Peter finds it in him to stay the night, and they fall asleep together like that, curled up in the bed, limbs intertwined in a mocking imitation of the one thing Tony longs for but can’t have. 

-

A few days later at Tony’s place, when he’s feeling much better, Peter brings it up again.

“So,” he says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. “About that machine of yours. What exactly does it do?”

“You want to find out?” 

“Hell yeah,” says Peter. 

Fifteen minutes later, Tony’s jerking himself off leisurely as the machine fucks into Peter at an incredible speed. He’s been timing himself so that he’ll come at around the same time as Peter’s last orgasm. But Peter’s already come three times, and he doesn’t look like he wants to slow down at all. 

“You good?” Tony asks.

“Oh, yeah,” says Peter in between moans. “This is _definitely_ one of your better inventions. But— ah,” he trails off on a choked cry. “I wish it was you instead. It’s so much better with you— _hah—_ inside me. God, Mr. Stark, y-you always fill me up so good, you make me feel so good—”

Tony’s orgasm hits him out of left field. After he’s done catching his breath, Peter’s turned the machine off and is grinning at him. 

“God, kid,” says Tony. “Where’d you learn to talk dirty like that?”

Peter shrugs. “I wanted to get you to come. Do you have a thing for ‘Mr. Stark,’ by the way? Because I was actually wondering if I should call you Tony, but you seem to like that a lot, too.”

Of course Peter would hit the nail on the head. He’s bright, after all. “You can call me whatever you want,” says Tony. “As long as it’s Mr. Stark at work— I don’t want people thinking I’m picking favourites and making a big deal out of it.” Peter _is_ his favourite, but no one needs to know that.

“Okay, Tony,” says Peter with a sideways smile. Tony wonders if it’s too late to change his mind, because he loves the sound of this, too.

-

“Tony?”

Tony jerks awake to a familiar voice, drenched in a cold sweat and with warm, strong arms wrapped around him.

“Tony? Tony. It’s me. Peter. I’m here. I’m okay. I’ve got you.”

The dream flashes vividly through his mind. Peter’s body coming apart, piece by piece, into dust. Dry mouth, constricted throat. Excruciating pain clawing at his heart. It’s not real. It was real— it’s not anymore. Peter is here right now, holding him, grounding him. He allows himself to hold Peter tightly and to breathe, tension slowly seeping out of his shoulders. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, voice dry. “It happens. Not often, but sometimes.” He neglects to mention that perhaps his recent course of action had led to a new bout of Peter-related guilt that has revived his old one. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I’m good,” says Tony. “I’m sure turning to dust is not something you want to relive.” 

Peter looks stricken. “I didn’t know you still had dreams about that.” He swallows hard. “It’s been years.” 

Peter was his greatest mistake and worst blessing all rolled into one. It would haunt Tony forever.

“Some things take a while to recover from,” says Tony. “We don’t all have healing powers.”

With no warning, Peter leans over and bites down on Tony’s shoulder, a playful sort of nibble. When Tony stares at him, he grins.

“Pete, what are you doing?”

“Giving you my healing powers,” says Peter. “It’s how I got mine. Is it working?”

Tony threads a hand through Peter’s hair, and wonders, not for the first time and not for the last, how he is ever going to let Peter go.

“Yeah,” says Tony. “I’m all fixed up now.” 

“Good,” says Peter, snuggling in close and pressing a gentle kiss to the place where he’d bitten. “And just so you know, there’s nothing about you that needs fixing to begin with.”

Tony wants to believe that. He really does.

-

Pepper gets back from her vacation to see Peter lounging around in Tony’s office. 

“Good to see you, Peter,” says Pepper with a smile.

“It’s so great to see you too, Ms. Potts,” Peter beams at her. “Or is it Mrs. Romanov? Congrats on the wedding, by the way.”

“I kept my name. And thank you.” Pepper looks down at her ring with a smile. Tony recognizes the look— she used to wear it when she looked at him, but he feels no sorrow or animosity, just a sense of contentment. He’s more than happy for her and Natasha, and he’s had years to get over Pepper. Maybe someday, he’d get over Peter, too. 

“I’m sorry about what happened with Oscorp,” Pepper tells Peter. “I wish I could assure you that your new boss has his head screwed on right, but I _can_ promise you that if you ever have any concerns, my door is always open.”

“That’s a lie,” says Tony. “She doesn’t even have time to meet with _me.”_

“I don’t put your meeting times in my calendar because I know you’re always late,” Pepper counters. 

Peter laughs, and Pepper smiles at him. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Tony, I’m expecting that paperwork on my desk by the end of the day. Peter, make sure he gets it done, okay? I’m counting on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Peter.

After she leaves, he turns to Tony. “Does she know about me and Harry?”

“I haven’t told her. I don’t think she would have brought it up with you if she knew.” 

“Oh, okay,” says Peter. “I just don’t want it to seem like I’m only here with you because of that whole thing.” 

_But you are,_ Tony thinks. He knows Peter genuinely enjoys working here. It’s the other thing that bugs him. The thing with no strings attached, though Tony is finding it harder to keep up that facade these days.

“Oh, she knows,” says Tony. “I’m sure Pepper doesn’t doubt your professionalism.”

Peter grins. “Maybe she should,” he says. 

And then he sinks down to his knees and sucks Tony off right there in the office chair. Tony tries to return the favour, but when he tugs Peter up by the hair to get them to swap positions, Peter comes hard in his pants with no other stimulation, tipping forward to rest his trembling head on Tony’s lap. Tony has to close his eyes to get his bearings back.

“Sorry,” Peter whispers into his thigh. “It’s just. The hair.”

“Don’t be sorry,” says Tony. “That’s got to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Peter lets out a shaky chuckle. “I can go again,” he offers.

They go again.

-

“The paperwork?” says Pepper, hours later, after Peter has gone home.

“First thing tomorrow,” says Tony. 

“I thought he’d be a good influence.” Pepper narrows her eyes. “Are you being a bad influence?”

“I’m kind of known for it,” says Tony. “I have a reputation to live up to.”

But something must show on Tony’s face, because Pepper’s frown deepens. “Tony,” says Pepper. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. That you and Peter are both on the same page.”

The thing is— they’re not. Tony’s familiar with rock bottom. But willingly signing on to be Peter’s rebound, no strings attached, when he knows full well he’s been head over heels since day one? That’s a new low, even for him. He can’t say any of this out loud, though, so instead he says, “We are. You know me— I’d never.” 

“I know,” says Pepper. She takes a deep breath, and puts on a neutral expression, like after years of trying, she’s finally come to grips with her inability to stop him from learning lessons the hard way. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” says Tony. And damn it, he’s trying.

-

Peter seems to have taken a liking to blowing Tony from under the desk. Tony’s not surprised. What does surprise him, though, is after a particularly pleasant orgasm, when Peter pipes up again. 

“So, um, Tony. I was thinking—?” He trails off, looking uncertain.

“I sure as hell wasn’t,” says Tony. “You sucked my brains out through my dick.”

Peter laughs and nudges him. “Not possible. You’re too smart for that.”

Tony’s too smart to be doing this at all, but that’s a whole other thing. “You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Peter. He digs around in his pants pocket. “I have these tickets for the new Star Wars movie. Ned was going to go with Betty, but they’ve got a dinner with her parents, so he gave them to me.” Peter pulls out the tickets and holds them in front of Tony. “Want to see it together?”

“I’ve already seen it,” says Tony. “I went to a private screening a couple months ago.” As much as he wants to watch it again with Peter— he has a feeling the movie would be much better with Peter’s enthusiastic reactions— the whole thing sounds uncomfortably close to a date. He can’t have that. He’s no good at holding himself at arm’s length from the things he really wants when they’re staring him in the face.

“Oh, that’s okay,” says Peter, with an air of practiced cheer. “I’ll just give them to Gwen. Do you want to do something else? I don’t have any plans.”

If he’d wanted to mess around, then he should have led with that. It was just like Peter to be unnecessarily chivalrous. “Sure,” says Tony. “My place, then?”

A dejected look crosses Peter’s face. “Do you, um. Do you not want to be seen with me? Like, in public?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be seen in public with me? To flex on Osborn? Is that what the kids call it— flexing?”

That earns a hearty laugh. “No, I was just thinking that we always hang out at my place or yours.”

“It gives us privacy. If even I don’t need everything about my life publicized, then you sure as hell don’t either.” 

Peter’s earlier unease seeps out of his body. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got a few secrets of my own.” He punctuates his point by doing a little web shooting gesture with his hands. Tony is hopelessly endeared.

“Is one of those secrets that you’re an exhibitionist? Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me? Because we can definitely have some fun with that.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” says Peter, a glint of interest in his eyes. “But I am now.”

-

“This is not exactly what I had in mind,” says Peter, muffled through his mask when Tony, who’s in his own suit, surprises him mid-patrol on top of a fifty-story building.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” says Tony. “Iron Man takes consent very seriously.”

“So does Spider-Man,” says Peter. He narrows his electronic eyes in what Tony thinks is meant to be a sultry look, and wraps lithe arms around Tony’s waist. Tony can’t feel it through the armor, but a shiver runs through him nonetheless. “It’s a good thing Spider-Man is _very_ into this.”

It’s two in the morning, and no one with regular human vision can see them up here, but it’s thrilling nonetheless. More so for Peter, due to the novelty of it. And also due to the Iron Man thing, which— okay, Tony knew the Iron Man thing was hot, but he didn’t know it was _this_ hot. As soon as Tony’s armored hand brushes against Peter’s bare cock, he comes hard, yelp muffled against the metal of Tony’s chestplate. 

“God,” says Peter, body trembling. “This is— fuck, I’ve had, like, twenty different wet dreams with this exact fantasy.” 

That’s a little surprising. Then again, Peter had an obvious case of hero worship when they first met, and besides, teenagers could get off to anything. “Don’t let your dreams be dreams,” says Tony. 

“That’s an old meme, Mr. Stark. It’s not even funny anymore.” 

“Okay, Spider-Man. Keep taking jabs at my age and maybe I won’t even let you come.” 

It was a half-joke, but Peter reacts with a full-body shudder, thrusting against Tony’s thigh. Of course he’s already hard again. Of course. The pre-come drags across the armor, and Tony reluctantly categorizes the Iron Man suit as another thing that he will never be able to disassociate from Peter after all this is over. 

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, in a quiet choked whisper. “I’ll be good. Please let me come.”

Tony doesn’t for a while, stroking Peter’s cock and then stopping right when he tenses up. He does this until Peter is a blabbering, quivering mess, and then finally he opens Peter up with his fingers and slides right into him. Peter comes so loud Tony’s sure it’ll wake up the neighborhood. Tony kisses him into a subdued silence, and thinks that no matter how this ends, at least no other rebound would be able to fuck Peter in a super suit on top of a building.

-

Tony’s in the middle of a meeting with Pepper on a cloudy Friday afternoon when she pulls up his calendar on the holo-screen. That’s when it hits Tony that it’s been nearly a month. There are only three more days until Peter leaves for San Francisco. 

Tony wishes he had the foresight to have laid out some stipulations for when this arrangement inevitably came to an end. Now that the end is staring him in the face, he finds himself completely at a loss. He turns some words over in his mind over dinner— Thai takeout, on Peter’s couch— but nothing sounds right in his head. His stomach feels hollow and empty, but he can’t eat.

Peter nudges his hand with the back of his chopstick, brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted.”

“Just thinking about your new suit upgrade,” Tony lies. 

Peter smiles. “Don’t worry about that now,” he says. “We can work on it on Monday.”

“You’ll be gone then,” says Tony. “First Monday of September.” Tony will need a new intern, too, but. One problem at a time.

Peter frowns. “What? No I won’t. I already cancelled my plane ticket. Did I not tell you about that?”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Yeah,” says Peter. “And I’m not renting the apartment out, either. I’m keeping it. Wine stain and all.” He points to the stain on the ground with his toe, fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You were pretty dead set on getting out of the city,” says Tony.

“That was before,” says Peter. “I wanted to get away. I don’t have to do that anymore.” He puts his hand on Tony’s and smiles. 

Tony feels his heart drop all the way to his stomach. Of all the possible conversations he’d played out in his head, this had not been one of them. This is only going to make it all harder when Peter eventually moves on, and Tony still has to see him every single day at work. “The internship was supposed to help you save up,” says Tony. “Don’t let it tie you down. If you want to get out there and spread your wings, go for it.”

“I’m not talking about the internship.” Peter gives him a look, like an exasperated teacher talking to a five year old. “I’m talking about you.”

“Me?” Tony sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Pete, you haven’t done this before, have you? I’m just your rebound. I’m here to help you lick your wounds. If you’re all healed up, then my job here is done.”

“What?” Peter’s voice is strained, high-pitched, the way it gets when he’s highly stressed out. “What are you talking about? You’re not my rebound.”

“Okay, then. Whatever you want to call it. Fling, one-night stand, one-month stand. No strings attached.”

“You’re not any of those things,” says Peter. “Tony, I’ve been in love with you since I was _fifteen._ ”

In a moment of vertigo, Tony feels the room rearrange itself around those words.

“What?” says Tony. And then, because that came out too hoarse, he repeats it emphatically. “I’m sorry— _what?”_

“I—” Peter stammers. He stands up off the couch, hands clenching into fists and then opening again, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I thought you— how could you not know? Did you think I was just using you for— that’s what you thought this was?” His voice goes quiet. Hollow. “That’s all you wanted?”

“Peter,” says Tony. He stands up so fast that he goes dizzy. He reaches out for Peter’s hand, but Peter yanks it away like he’s been burned, and his eyes fill with tears. Tony feels sick. “Peter, no. That’s not it. I’m in love with you, too.”

“What?” Hope flares up in Peter’s eyes, and then his brow furrows again. It would be adorable if Tony wasn’t so maddeningly confused. “Tony, you’re giving me a lot of mixed signals here.”

“I’m in love with you,” says Tony, suddenly desperate for Peter to understand. “I have been for years. I never acted on it— I wasn’t supposed to. And then we were drunk, and— you’d just broken up, and you said you were done with dating. I couldn’t ask for any more than you wanted to give. I could never take advantage of you like that.”

“But it was _you,”_ says Peter. “When I told you it was fine, I thought you knew. I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve never wanted _anybody_ more.”

Belatedly, Tony remembers how to breathe again. And then he lets the realization fill him with a warm hope. “Peter,” he says shakily. “Are you saying that we were dating all this time?”

“Yeah,” says Peter, equally breathless. “Yeah. I thought— at least, that’s what I wanted. You want that too, right? Like, with strings attached? Because my strings have been attached since day one,” says Peter, descending into a ramble now, “and there’s literally nothing you could do to get them to un-attach. Just putting that out there.”

Tony cradles the back of his neck and kisses him, soft and slow and sweet, with all the love he’s been trying to hold back. Peter kisses him back just the same way, and Tony’s heart feels full, like the moment when he stopped needing the arc reactor.

“I don’t know about that,” says Tony with a dry chuckle. “I’m pretty inventive. I mean, I’ve already found a way to mess this up, haven’t I?”

Peter’s eyes are wet, but the tears are happy as he brushes Tony’s hair back and kisses him, just under his eye. “No,” says Peter simply. “This is perfect.”

And if this is what Peter wants, then Tony will give him this.


End file.
